It Could Have Been Worse Than You Would Ever Know
by Aviantei
Summary: [Layton Brothers: Mystery Room Spoilers, One Shot] The most frustrating thing about this whole mess is waking up and remembering that you're not in control, but he is.


**It Could Have Been Worse Than You Would Ever Know**

By: Aviantei

A _Layton Brothers: Mystery Room _One Shot

* * *

><p>The most frustrating thing about this whole mess is waking up and remembering that you're not in control, but <em>he<em> is.

It's a strange relationship that you two have developed in the one year that _he's_ been there, casually taking your place. Sometimes you like to pretend that he killed you, since everyone else seems to think of you as dead. You always push the thought away before it gets too far, though, because giving him the capacity to be a killer means you would have to respect him, and you sure as hell don't.

There's nothing exciting about this other person in your head. Frankly, he's boring, and being stuck and having to watch everything he does while you take backseat is beyond frustrating. The only thing that makes him even somewhat interesting is the fact that you have no idea how he got there, just that after Forbodium Castle you and he woke up together, and there was nothing you could do about it.

That doesn't make it better, though. Even worse is watching him take over your life, and nobody even questions if that's a good idea. They _know_ you've changed, but since his skill at solving mysteries matches yours, _is_ yours, it's fine. It gets the job done, so why should it be a bother?

Sometimes you wish you couldn't see every last little miniscule action that he does. You wouldn't have to watch your life slip away. You wouldn't have to hear other people call him by your name. You wouldn't have to let criminals slip past without having fun with them first, and just how _dull_ he is drives you insane. Still, some tiny part of you knows it's better this way, that you wouldn't be able to stand not knowing what he's up to.

A much larger part of you wants to throttle him, even though it's your own throat.

* * *

><p>The response that he gets in Scotland Yard is astounding, at least to you. You were put in the Mystery Room partially out of your own desire to look into the most difficult cases for a challenge, and partially because people could tell you were dangerous and didn't want to work with you. That was just fine. You didn't want to work with anybody so incompetent that they'd back down from a little threat anyway.<p>

But him; oh, somehow _he's_ different. Everyone just seems to up and forget what _you're_ like. He at least has enough common sense to keep everyone the hell _out_ of your Mystery Room, but that doesn't change how much friendlier he is to them. People stop avoiding Alfendi Layton at lunch hour, approach him in the halls, even call out to him when they pass on the street or in the supermarket. And _he_ plays along right back.

It makes you sick.

You can't even figure out what they're thinking. They _knew_ you. Not in any intimate way, but they still had a rough idea of the kind of person you are. That's why they avoided you. What did they think happened to change your whole demeanor? Do they even care? People don't just _change_ that easily, _why don't they see that?_

But no one even comments on how different he is than you. It's like they abandoned the imprint of your existence.

* * *

><p>Hilda notices the change, and it's pathetic how quickly she gives up. You're glad that she doesn't accept <em>him<em>, but you're also frustrated. You're still in here. It wasn't exactly anything normal, but you and Hilda were definitely close. You could have gotten closer if _he_ didn't get in the way. Nobody else might have guessed it, but you wanted that.

Now, you're not so sure. _You're not my Alfendi_, Hilda says, with this sad look in her eyes. It's like you died, even if you really didn't. She's _cried_ over this. You can't bring yourself to care. _You're just…not… I'm sorry, I can't do this._

_Of course he's bloody not,_ you want to retort back to her. You want to get into a heated argument and have both of you give up partway in favor of trying to overpower each other with lips instead of the words coming out of them. _It doesn't take an Interpol agent to figure that out. But I'm still in here, you know. Why don't you try and drag me back out?_

You don't say that, though, because he stops you. _That's fine, I understand,_ he says, as polite as can possibly be. He says it because he doesn't give a damn about her, just as much as she doesn't give a damn about him. He says it because there's no way he could handle her even if he wanted to. You don't know exactly what he's thinking, but you know that much. _You don't need to apologize for it._

_I'm sorry, Al,_ she says, with a distant look in her eyes. She's looking at him, but she's not _looking at him._ You like to think that she's at least trying to look at you. _I'm sorry._

That's all she's trying to do, though. You don't have any objections to him getting up and walking away. You don't care. If she's giving up on trying to get you back so easily, then she isn't worth the effort in trying to call out to.

* * *

><p>One of the more satisfying things about this relationship between you and him is that he can hold you back, but it's not permanent. The first time you have a truly interesting criminal in the Mystery Room, you burst out, taking back your body. It feels good to be able to play again, to toy around with the suspect until they spill out a confession and every last infinitesimal decimal point of his absolutely <em>anal<em> system for calculating error is pointing to a one-hundred percent certainty.

Even so, it can't compare to the feeling of being able to actually speak out loud, to having words rolling our your tongue, to be actively breathing air, to be moving for what little time you may or may not have. You send the criminal to the cell he belongs to, then you just revel in the feeling of _living_, exploring every corner of your Mystery Room like you're there for the first time.

He eventually catches up to you, and is back in control before it's the end of your shift. You don't _care_. It's possible to beat him out, to get your life back from the terrible impersonator that's been kidnapping your space. You can't really manage it at any other point yet, but when there's a criminal around you get so excited that you push past him, and _life is good._

He starts to get on guard for you. It doesn't do him much good. Sure, sometimes you're only out for a few minutes, but as long as there's a criminal around, it's just _too easy_ to get past him, to be in control, to get to grill down a criminal until they can't stand it anymore and _you're just so damn happy_—

It's only a matter of time until you figure out how to beat him for good.

* * *

><p>Justin's reactions is one of the most interesting, mainly because he doesn't seem surprised when <em>he<em> approaches your old partner and starts up the pleasant sunshine and rainbows act. Justin just goes along with it like he always has people on his squadron suddenly develop second personalities that are completely different from their original ones. It bothers you, more than Hilda's resignation that you're never coming back.

You eventually have to stop caring, just because it isn't doing you any good. Justin does his work and _he_ does yours, and their paths cross on occasion, but not often enough that it's a regular occurrence. Still, his behavior strikes you as odd, and you take note of it just in case it will become useful someday.

You have no idea when that might be, but it never hurts to have too much information.

One day you and Justin get assigned to the same case, and you manage to get out. You do your job as quickly as possible, with the hope that maybe you can tell Justin what little you know about what's going on. He may not be able to help, but it's better if someone knows. Maybe he can tell Hilda, and things can work out.

Justin doesn't smile, though. Instead he frowns, almost glaring at you. _I see that you haven't really changed,_ he says. There's something bothering you about his tone, but you can't place it. _I thought you had. Don't you ever get tired of causing trouble?_

_I'm not in the _mood_ for your terrible sense of humor,_ you spit out. You don't mean to, but you can't help it. _Now why don't you be useful for a change and try to help me figure out what to do? I'm stuck here, and it's not helping anything get anywhere—_

_What needs to go anywhere, Al?_ Justin asks. _Everything's done here. We just solved the case. So why don't you go get some well-deserved rest and if you still want to talk after that, I'll listen if we're both free. Alright?_ And with that, he turns to the door, trying to end the conversation on a completely contrived note.

You want to scream at him, to tell him that there isn't _time_ for that, but you _can't_, because there really _isn't_ time, and _he's_ already taking it back, waving to Justin like _he_ wants your conversation to disappear, too.

It isn't immediate, but this is the event that starts your mistrust in Justin Law.

If you were in control, it would send a pleasant shiver down your spine.

* * *

><p><em>Hello, Alfendi,<em> your father says, taking a seat across from you in Scotland Yard's break room. On the table in front of you there's a complete tea set, provided by the Commissioner, as is the lack of anybody else. Your father's been out of the country on some research trip or another for the University, and this is the first time he's been able to come back to see you. _How are you feeling?_

_Hello, Father,_ _he_ says, the bare minimum of politeness in his voice. You're at grateful _these_ particular feelings seem to be mutual between the two of you, at the very least. _I've been doing fine since I left the hospital. Nothing unusual to report._

Alfendi_, _your father repeats, and there's a certain hardness to his voice, one that he rarely uses. If you had the body right now, you'd be wincing, if nothing for the memories of a lecture following that tone. _There's no time to be pretending like everything is fine. Now, from what Barton's told me about Forbodium Castle—_

_He_ frowns, and it's enough to make your father pause. _I already told you that I've been fine. I just needed some bed rest. _There's a hardness in _his_ voice, one that almost sounds like yours. You don't like the fact that you two have some similarities. _That's _all_._

That's not all, though. For arguably the first time in your life, you want to talk to your father. You want to tell him what's going on, have him listen to you, maybe give you some advice. He's always been brilliant at solving puzzles. Maybe he'd have some luck with this one. It's not possible, though, because there's no way you can break past _him_ right now.

And what if you could? Would you really ask your father for help? No, you wouldn't. The conversation on your part would be all barbs and sarcasm, just like it's been for almost ten years, and nothing would get done. This has been your problem, and it always will be. There's no point in crying to Daddy now.

_Alfendi, I want to help you,_ your father pleads. There's a look in his eyes you can't decipher, but it's definitely nothing that you've seen before. _Don't do this. I know that we've had our troubles, but I'm still your father, and you're still my son—_

You snort, and so does _he_. Your father frowns, but doesn't press the issue any further. You made yourself perfectly clear years ago what you think of your relationship, and it seems like _he_ retains the sentiment. It's been years since you and your father have acted the way your blood and society says you should.

_That's enough, he_ says, finishing off the cup of tea in front of him. _I'm sorry to cut this short, but I do have a case right now that I should be working on. If you'll excuse me._ Just like that, _he _walks away before your father can say anything.

For the first time since you and _he_ have started this, you realize that the two of you are in perfect agreement.

* * *

><p>There are years that pass. You and <em>he<em> come to an impasse, where you can't break out for longer than the span of time it takes to solve a case, but _he_ can't suppress you any further.

You start to have to accept the fact that you're stuck this way, and it's going to take something bigger than you to get away from _him_.

* * *

><p>Your father doesn't try anymore. Justin never did. Hilda stopped a long time ago. People like Florence get a glimpse of you and decide that you're dangerous and rejoice when<em> he<em> comes back.

Nobody else even notices.

* * *

><p>Four years pass and it <em>still<em> smarts, the idea that everyone has given up on you and accepted _him_, that the name Alfendi Layton hardly belongs to you anymore, that fact that you're basically _dead_—

* * *

><p>Deputy Constable Lucy Baker is sent to the Mystery Room, and <em>he<em> lets her stay. You've gotten to a point where you've almost stopped caring, so having this intruder around doesn't bother you as much as it should. You go about business as usual, and the first case you solve together you don't even attempt to try and surface because it's just so _dull_, and you really don't need to scare off the only tiny chance you have of escaping the monotony that is dealing with _him_ day after day.

Your second case with Lucy in the Mystery Room, you can't help it. It's too exciting, and they're never going to solve the case without you. You figure it out, nail on the head, and end up fading away before too long. You bet that'll be enough to scare the girl off, but she comes back, like her boss exhibiting multiple personalities isn't anything to be concerned about.

She somehow finds out that you're a normal part of Alfendi Layton, and so Lucy Baker accepts you. Sure, you worry and scare her at times, but she never leaves, never pushes you away. Sometimes she's glad to have _him_ instead of you, but eventually she just treats you two the same, and while it's not perfect, while she doesn't realize that it's _you_ that's the original and not _him_, it's far better than anything else you've ever gotten, so you'll take it.

You could do without the nickname "Potty Prof," but at least it's _something_. And because of that, you remember just how much you want to be in control, just how much you want _him_ to go away so you can live again.

* * *

><p>Eventually, it stops mattering. Well, it still matters to you, but that's beside the point. The fact of the matter is now everyone understands—<em>Lucy<em> understands—that _you're_ the original one, and _he's_ not. The added bonus is that the truth at Forbodium Castle is finally solved and in the air, and you're off free while Justin gets what he deserves.

It takes a weight off your shoulders that you never even realized was there.

* * *

><p>You can finally breathe again. You can finally <em>exist<em> again and it's something wonderful, something better than the fleeting moments around criminals. You don't need to stare down a suspect in a case to be able to have free reign of your body.

* * *

><p>Of course, it's not perfect. Nothing ever is. <em>He's<em> still there, but not all the time. You're both still working out some sort of balance of how often you each get to be in control, but it's slowly getting there. You'd prefer it if he'd just disappear, but you don't think that's going to happen anytime soon.

You don't think Lucy would be happy with it either. You try to pretend like this isn't a major factor in you keeping _him_ around.

* * *

><p>Somehow, even when you're dragged out of the Mystery Room, when you're not in total control, and even when you're the one inside, watching through the observation glass that separates you from the real world, the life you have now really isn't so bad.<p>

* * *

><p>Tada! A day later than what I wanted, but it got posted nonetheless.<p>

I wrote this back in May shortly after playing _Mystery Room_. For anyone that knows anything about what else I was up to at the time, yes, I was overseas and traveled through three different countries, and spent time to play an entire video game and write about it.

Regardless, I love characters with Dissassociative Idenity Disorder. They're so much fun. Given how Alfendi acts, it was only a matter of time before I had to write about him. In this, I wanted to write about some of the things that I felt would be important events between Forbodium Castle and the game's plot. The second person is because the first few lines that started this idea came to me were in second person.

I'm really happy with the result.

I hope to write for the _Mystery Room_ gang again someday.

Thanks for reading!

[POST] 102314


End file.
